Isolation
by Salmiakkikarkki
Summary: The winter is coming. Beta'd. Can be read as slight shipping or simply as few decades of friendship.


A/N: Updated to a Beta'd version on 25th Nov. A big 'Thank you!' for DarkBalance for making my stuff more readable! **  
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Disclaimer: Digimon belongs to Toei Animation and Bandai.

* * *

 **Isolation**

It was still dark inside the cabin thanks to the shutters and curtains.

However, the recognizable whiteness behind the blades and at the edges of the glass brought an undeniable message of an upcoming winter.

Takeru held back a weary sigh.

It was one of those very early mornings when he had, for some undisclosed reason, trouble sleeping. He woke up early, unable to fall back to sleep. Yet he was still so tired. Even though he didn't have that requirement for sleep, his brains seemed to be sleepwalking, unwilling to cooperate.

Takeru had shuffled his way to the kitchen area through the hallway and the living room. Pouring himself a lukewarm cup of tea from the thermos, he refused the idea of opening the curtains and be blinded by the first snow.

Somehow, the rain, which he had become very much accustomed to hating over the years, had ceased during the night and transformed into a soft white snowstorm. The length of the rain had spared a thin layer of snowflakes from melting into the wet ground.

It was idyllic.

 _In some sense._

The soft morning light that was reflected into the cabin by the snow. That eerie atmosphere of yet to be agreed promises, of an untarnished blank canvas.

A fresh surface that isolated the cabin even more in the rural area.

As Takeru drank the tea in large mouthfuls to avoid the soggy taste, he was quite sure that it was yet to snow in Tokyo.

And he didn't really know which scenery he would prefer.

He had actually stayed only twice in his grandparents' cabin during the winter time. The first time had been before his parent's divorce, and the other after a surprise snowstorm that had left him, Yamato and their father stranded in the area when he had been ten-years-old. On no other occasion had their parent's had the time to take themselves off work, drive the distance from Tokyo and spend a night in the vicinity. Or at least that was how he remembered.

And, of course, if his book project had taught him anything, it was to be critical of his memories.

Despite the reminiscence, Takeru couldn't help the emptiness the light was making him feel. Much of the furniture had been changed, even if the light still left the same soft glow on the walls.

So much in the space had changed based on its occupancy alone.

Even if he could be at least partially at ease within the place, it wasn't his home. It was simply a vacancy amidst need, a place which memories belonged to other people.

To people who no longer lived there.

Maybe he should have felt that family-based connection to the building, but like sleep the feeling eluded him.

More than that, he refused to think how his grandparents would have thought of the fact that he was there sipping tea while a full-sized Digimon was snoring in their old bedroom.

Of course, his grandparents had been slightly eccentric. But that had mostly been due to their old-fashioned ways of life. They had raised a hard-working son who had moved far away to do a career in media.

It was not the first time Takeru had to snort softly to the careers and paths of life in his family.

A clank from the roof startled Takeru violently from his thoughts, making him instantly alert. He had become somewhat accustomed to the noises of the old building but a part of him was always weary, his blue eyes skimming for the source of the noise.

However, like on any other occasion, the noise simply had come from the structures of the house, caused by life and the flow of time.

From a very well learned habit, Takeru fought the momentary urge to scratch his left wrist. Instead, he placed the empty mug on the wooden table; its worn out color told of many more nightly wanderings. The wood felt smooth, even if cold, underneath his fingertips as he sought for something solid in the scenery to take a hold of.

 _Some scars would always go unhealed._

The melancholy made him seek a refuge from the emptiness and accept the urge to return to bed. His pace slightly faster on his way back.

* * *

There was a telltale sign of comfortable dawn when he entered the bedroom: the location and the curtain material blocked some of the light that had already swarmed the kitchen and the living room.

In fact, if it would have been any darker he would have had to watch his steps to prevent himself from crashing into the drawer left to the door.

 _He still had a bruise on his knee to remind him of the last time._

After managing to sidestep the drawer, Takeru couldn't help the small dry laugh from escaping his lips as he noticed how deep into the bedspread Angemon had managed to sink into. Usually, futons or devolving were an only option, but for some reason, Angemon had taken to like the low bed Takeru's grandparents had bought in their later years.

Despite the fact that bed would not likely have agreed on his partner's graving.

To make matters worse, Angemon was not a small sleeper when it came to these locations where they didn't have to fear for an attack from a random Digimon and hide from plain sight in the Digital World. No, Angemon was one of those sleepers who naturally took every inch of available space and conquered it without effort.

And once again, Angemon's long arms were hogging the majority of the pillows, wings the central part of the bed and his feet splayed all over the foot of the bed.

Takeru was actually very surprised that Angemon had never pushed him off the bed in his sleep.

 _Well…_ he could have sworn that there would be a first time for everything.

Takeru's midnight wanderings were a bad idea to begin with because either, he would need to stay up until the morning, _or_ go and sleep on the living room floor. However, this time, the seed of melancholy made Takeru unwilling to give up on the possibility of _comfortable_ rest and he started to think of the best way to squeeze himself back into _his_ space in the bed.

However, something in his presence, or the lack of it five minutes earlier, had shaken the Digimon from his sleep.

"Hmph?"

Takeru huffed a laugh at Angemon's groggy reply, pausing his attempt to find an empty place in the bed.

"It snowed." Takeru replied steadily, the earlier mirth disappearing from his voice almost immediately.

"Oh." There was a distinct pause while Angemon tried to gather his thoughts on snow, nature, and the universe.

A few moments later Angemon raised his head a tiny bit from the pillow, finally replying to the unspoken declaration. The understanding came as a jovial gesture as the partner Digimon pulled himself back slightly to make a decent room on the side of the bed.

Takeru gratefully took the cue and crept under the fall blanket.

The blanket was meant for late summer nights and early falls when the temperature was far above frost and first snow. But it was enough; Angemon's wings adding a second, much more insulating, layer to protect him from the chilly air.

Takeru could feel Angemon's attention on him. He wasn't sleepy yet and the stale tea had certainly not helped the case. But, he was tired beneath that and wholeheartedly accepted the way Angemon's arm sneaked across his chest, keeping him grounded in the present.

 _Another winter._

 _Another year and they were no closer to the Digital World._

"Just sleep." Angemon whispered next to him.

Against his habits Takeru managed to voice his doubts, "Are you ok with it?"

Despite that he didn't turn his head to face the answer, Takeru could hear the long — contemplating — breath Angemon took before finally answering reassuringly. "You are here. We are both well. That's all that really matters."

Takeru couldn't help the dry desperate laugh from escaping his lips. "It sounds so simple."

"Is it not?" Angemon questioned steadily, and Takeru could easily sense how Angemon took a good analytical look at him before closing his eyes, the Digimon's mind asking for more sleep.

Takeru was not all that convinced despite the angel Digimon's reply. He did trust on Angemon's view on things — as upfront as it could be at times — but maybe his own spirit was lacking.

Tired of the emptiness.

Tired of the cold.

As Angemon was slipping back to sleep Takeru snuck deeper into the softness of the feathers. They were white like the snow, but in contrast to the engulfing light from outside, they filtered the light, forming a dimly lit refuge from the world.

Takeru didn't feel any closer to sleep, but, at least here he could pretend to hibernate until the next spring.


End file.
